


Knot in Control

by mickie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, PWP, Sherlock Challenge, Shibari, december 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickie/pseuds/mickie
Summary: Jim helps Sherlock relax after a bad day.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45
Collections: Sherlock Challenge





	Knot in Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabricdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/gifts).



> This is my entry for the December Sherlock Challenge. The prompt was tie. Originally I was going to go with ugly holiday ties but then this happened. Not sure where it came from because PWP isn't really my thing. Enjoy.

**Knot in Control**

Bad mood. Sherlock flung open the door of 221B and growled, “I hate Mycroft.” He then saw Jim lying on the couch with his phone and noticed the immaculate condition of the kitchen. “If you destroyed _any_ of my experiments in a ridiculous fit of inane cleaning, I will be _extremely_ put out.”

“Grumpy much, darling?” Jim asked, without looking away from his phone. “And if I can’t tell what’s a science experiment versus what was last week’s dinner that you just left on the counter, that’s your problem, not mine, because that’s disgusting and I’m not going to come here and exist in filth not even for however long it takes for us to have a good shag.”

Sherlock pouted while hanging up his coat and scarf. “I hate you.”

“Good,” Jim retorted. “Now, why don’t you make us both a cuppa in the nice _clean_ kitchen and tell me what has you in fits.”

“I already told you. Mycroft,” Sherlock snapped. “Which tea do you want?”

“Mmmmmm… Irish Breakfast,” Jim replied saucily. “And yes, well, it’s always Mycroft, but what, specifically, about big brother is causing tonight’s malfunction?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Obviously, he knows it’s date night.”

“Obviously.”

“And, of course, he saddles me with a case that’s a three at best but I’m sure it involves you.”

“He’s good that way,” Jim said and finally put the phone down. 

“It involves the mafia in the _Campo di Marte_.”

“Oooooo… I do know something about that.”

“Shocking.”

“Well, how about you finish making the tea, we’ll have some biscuits with it? I made some sablé biscuits this morning while plotting world domination.”

“How domestic of you.”

Jim smirked. “And then I’ll see about making you feel better and, maybe later, we’ll talk about the case.”

~~

“Strip,” Jim ordered briskly while retrieving several lengths of rope from Sherlock’s bedroom closet. 

Acquiescing, Sherlock pulled his shoes and socks off. He placed them underneath the chair because he knew Jim liked things neat, especially when he was in charge. Sherlock then unbuttoned his trousers, slid them over his hips and legs before stepping out of them. He then slowly unbuttoned his dark purple shirt, Jim’s favorite, and let it slide sensually off of his torso. A little show for Jim even if one hadn’t been requested. Both items were then folded neatly and placed on the chair. 

After slipping out of his pants, he tossed them into the laundry basket and then turned to smile enticingly at Jim. “How do you want me?” Jim made a subtle gesture indicating that he should stand by the bed. Sherlock stepped forward and turned to face Jim.

“Relax, forget the day, the week,” Jim said evenly. He picked up one of the ropes, looped it loosely around Sherlock’s neck, and tied a knot. Before continuing, he braced the fixed end of the rope with his fingers and pulled the loose end to make sure it was tight and wouldn’t slide. Sherlock focused on his breathing. He trusted Jim.

Jim worked silently and efficiently to bind Sherlock’s chest and back. Each knot was specifically placed so as to rest on one of Sherlock’s erogenous points. Jim’s fingertips traced along the musculature first before pulling the rope into position so that the previous knot was held firmly. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

Feeling the tension begin to ease, Sherlock smiled and murmured, “Yes.” Jim's fingers felt confident and sure, warm and soothing against Sherlock’s skin. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” Jim replied as he continued to wind the rope around Sherlock’s body. His touches were sensual but firm caresses. Every time that he was near a sensitive area, he would push in his finger a little more or make sure the knot rested securely against it. When he finished with Sherlock’s torso, he ordered, “Lie down.” Sherlock did so.

Smiling with the possessive grin that Sherlock loved, Jim ran his fingertips through Sherlock’s curls, tapped his nose playfully, and then began binding his hips. Sherlock had many erogenous zones there as well as on the underside of his cheeks and in the crease of his legs and it felt as though Jim’s fingers could set his skin on fire. 

Sherlock sensed himself losing focus on the room and becoming more aware of his body and the knots pressing down on his skin. He turned his head toward Jim and watched the man's face as he worked. It was beautiful in its intensity and focus. After tying several knots mid-leg, Jim put two on the back of his knee and then tied off the rope. Sherlock sighed and sank into the feeling of lassitude even more.

Jim caressed Sherlock’s side in acknowledgement and picked up another rope. He looped the new rope through the bindings on Sherlock’s hips and then began weaving it down his other leg. When he finished, he smirked, rolling his neck. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. “And you’re mine.”

The words pulled Sherlock out of the relaxed haze he was feeling, just enough for him to reply, “Yours…”

“Do you want your arms bound tonight?”

“Mmmmm?” Sherlock tried to focus on the question but he couldn’t quite decide. “Stop asking me questions and just do what you want.”

“That’s not how it works, darling.”

“Fine… bother… tie them and stop killing my bliss with your questions.”

Jim laughed. “I’m just getting started.”

“Mmmmm…”

“Sit up for a moment then,” Jim instructed. He helped Sherlock up before retrieving a third, shorter rope as well as his favorite quirt. The new rope was interlaced to the one around Sherlock’s neck. His arms were pulled backward, which pushed his chest forward slightly. Sherlock knew that would increase the pressure on the knots on the chest and augment the sensations on his other erogenous zones. 

Sherlock relaxed into the sensation. This was the only actual restraint and he craved the loss of control. Jim quickly bound his arms together and Sherlock savored the increasing pressure on his body. When he finished, Jim guided Sherlock back down onto the bed. Sherlock exhaled slowly. This was bliss.

There seemed to be a subtle thrumming energy pulsing from knot to knot. It caressed his skin and lightly stimulated his nerve endings. It was becoming harder to hold on to rational thoughts as Sherlock felt himself sinking into the quiet throbbing of his pulse echoing in his ears. Closing his eyes, he let himself slip under the edge of whispered pleasure and promised bliss. 

Jim picked up the quirt and twirled it in his fingers a few times before drawing it down Sherlock’s side. Sherlock loved the feel of leather against his skin. After twirling it once more, Jim gracefully flicked his wrist and lashed Sherlock’s leg. Sherlock flinched in response to the pain but his body arced toward the next strike. His skin stung but the knots seemed to be whispering sweetly and urgently to his mind. There would be more.

Jim hit him again. Every movement was deliberate and the strikes elicited exquisite pain followed by intense pleasure. Jim moved up and down Sherlock’s body. Each time the leather touched him, Sherlock moved into the feeling of pain only to be caressed erotically by the ropes. He pushed against the knots to give himself a more intense sensation. 

Soon there no longer seemed to be any difference between pain and ecstasy. Tingling energy gathered in his skin and groin. His body began to tremble and he cried out with each stroke. 

Alternating between Sherlock’s chest, abdomen, and legs, Jim wove an intricate pattern of pleasure and pain with his strokes. He varied the force behind each one so that no two were alike and Sherlock wouldn’t be able to predict the intensity of the next one. Sherlock knew Jim’s goal was to keep him lost in an endless sea of agony and ecstasy and hovering at the edge of completion. It worked beautifully.

Broken pieces of sentences began to spill from his lips. "Please... more... I want... everything... please... more... more... more please..."

The rhythm of Jim’s strokes seemed to be following an unknown symphony that only he could hear. Sherlock’s writhing increased the erotic thrumming in his veins. He felt as though he were soaring, higher than any drug. Closing his eyes and tossing his head back and forth, he mumbled, "Jim… please..."

Jim leaned forward. “Mine,” he said, firmly striking Sherlock’s groin. Sherlock’s muscles tensed instantly and then he screamed Jim’s name as he released.

~~

A soft hand on Sherlock’s face brought him back. His dark lashes fluttered as he slowly opened his eyes and gazed up at Jim. He felt as if he were trembling from the inside out. It had been intense and there was no way to come back from something like that quickly. 

“Rest,” Jim whispered, retrieving a blanket for Sherlock. “I’ll make tea.” Sherlock chuckled. That was their code for so many things but this time it meant _I will care for you_.

Sherlock heard Jim start the kettle and then felt himself being cleaned with a flannel and warm water before being covered with a soft blanket. The ropes felt like a strong gentle hug protecting him from the world. His burning skin was a testament of Jim’s love. Closing his eyes he sank into it and swore he’d never come out.

Sherlock wasn’t sure how long he had been floating but then he felt Jim sit on the edge of the bed. Opening his eyes, he saw Jim writing on a piece of paper. “Oh, nooooo,” he mumbled languidly.

“Oh, yes,” Jim said. “I’m solving the Iceman’s problem. Well, the one that _I_ can solve. I’m not qualified to help with all his other ones.” Sherlock chuckled. Jim held up the paper. It read: A. Paoletti - trattoria Via del Moro. Pulling the blanket off Sherlock, Jim placed the paper in a very strategic location before taking a picture and sending it to Mycroft.

“And you wonder why he thinks you’re the devil…”


End file.
